


Justice Is Sweet

by ApostateRevolutionary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Action, Gen, I don't know what to tag this with but Justice beats up a bunch of assholes what more could you want, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4059076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRevolutionary/pseuds/ApostateRevolutionary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is on his way back to his clinic when he overhears a woman being harassed. Neither he nor Justice will have any of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justice Is Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from anon on tumblr: Do you think you can write like, a VERY short dabble on Justice dealing with catcallers? Either in Awakening or DA2, which ever you like.

Anders was on his way back to his clinic from the Hanged Man, where he’d somehow been convinced to play a few rounds of Wicked Grace this afternoon, when he heard some sort of commotion ahead on the street. He could hear several male voices, but couldn’t yet discern what they were saying. He stopped for a moment, readying himself for trouble, before moving forward to see what was happening.

As the mage rounded the corner, he found a group of men, clearly workers that had just gotten off duty, gathered around and shouting at a woman who looked extremely uncomfortable. Most of the men were seated on crates, holding playing cards, but one was standing, facing the woman who looked like she just wanted to bolt.

“Leave me alone!” She shouted, her body language showing discomfort and fear.

“Come on, honey, it was a compliment!” The standing man called to her, before turning to his friends again. “Right, boys? We’re all thinking it, too. Don’t you just wanna bury your face between her breasts?”

The men on the crates cheered, and the woman only looked more upset. She opened her mouth to speak again, but clearly thought better of it and started to walk away.

The standing man took a few steps, following her. “Hey bitch, we’re talking to you! How dare you just walk away while someone is talking to you!”

That was the last straw. Anders was about to move to stop this when he heard a growl in his mind, followed by the faint taste of the Fade he was becoming increasingly accustomed to. The spirit nudged at his consciousness, an unspoken request for Anders to slip back and let him handle this. The mage almost smirked as he relinquished control, letting Justice come to the front. These degenerates had no idea what they were in for.

Standing their body up straighter, Justice walked forward, his lips twisted up in a snarl. He would see the injustice done to this woman corrected.

“Let this woman be.” He said, the words taking on a threatening edge.

Everyone stared at him for a moment, likely confused by his luminescent appearance. Unlike most mortals, however, these men seemed not to be frightened of him. The one that was standing took a step towards Justice, his fellows on the crates looking ready to stand up as well. The woman, surprisingly, had not fled, and simply watched with wide eyes.

“Hey, mind your own business, glowy. I don’t know what kind of freak show you are, but this doesn’t concern you.” The man said, pushing his chest out in what Justice had learned was an attempt to show dominance.

Such a display was wasted on a being such as Justice, who oozed dominance and power through every crack in Anders’ skin. “You have treated this woman unjustly, undermined her wishes, and treated her as lesser. I demand that you apologize and make up for this transgression immediately.”

The man before him was not swayed, smirking and gesturing at his fellows who’d gotten to their feet. “Or what? You’re outnumbered here, pal. I don’t have to listen you.”

Justice growled low in his throat. “If you will not listen, then you shall submit to Justice!”

Before the man could react, the spirit reached forward, gripping his throat and effortlessly lifting him off his feet. The man stared back, wide-eyed, fingers scrabbling at Justice’s hand. Concern radiated out from the back of Justice’s mind; Anders feared that they would kill him. The spirit sent a wave of reassurance back to calm the mortal whose body he shared. Death was not a just punishment for what had happened here, and Justice had no intention of going further than necessary.

Justice could feel the mortal in his grasp straining, so he released his throat, the man falling in a heap at his feet, coughing. No permanent damage. The others, there were four of them, watched him, and the spirit could see his blue light reflected in their wide eyes. One of them turned to run, and Justice pulled on pure Fade energy to stop him, sending forth a burst of power that shoved him to the side and into a stone wall before he fell. The man then hit the ground hard, groaning as he tried to recover the wind that had been knocked out of him.

Two of the remaining mortals rushed forward, while the third just stared, too scared to move. Justice caught the wrist of the first as he swung, whirling him around faster than any mortal ever could, nearly twisting his arm out of its socket. The spirit felt the mental equivalent of a wince from Anders, which he appeased by releasing the man’s arm and then bringing his knee up hard into his stomach. The man collapsed, holding his gut and groaning in pain. Three of the five men had already been incapacitated in mere moments, though none had been harmed irreparably.

The second man who’d rushed forward, delayed by Justice’s struggle with the first, then took his chances. The spirit saw his approach a moment too late, and his fist connected with his and Anders’ jaw.

Justice’s face did not budge, and the man cried out in pain as his fingers took the brunt of the blow. The spirit let Anders come forth just enough to heal their jaw, as the bone was slightly fractured, before he retreated back and Justice grabbed the man who’d struck them by the collar. With barely a flick of his wrist, he threw the last attacking mortal into one of the crates the group had been seated on when they’d arrived, the wood splintering and the box collapsing as his body hit it.

The spirit then turned his incandescent gaze on the only one of the group who remained standing. The man’s eyes were pleading and his knees quaked as he looked up into burning eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry, man, I’m so sorry.” He whimpered. “See, I apologized. I’ll do anything you want, just please don’t hurt me.”

“It is not I that you must make amends to.” Justice declared coldly, glancing at the woman on the edge of the battlefield who was frozen in shock.

The man looked at her, then back at Justice, before rushing over to her, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so. The spirit watched on, approvingly, as he begged her forgiveness, promising never to harass anyone again. Once the woman had accepted his apology, still a bit dumbstruck, he looked back at Justice, his eyes asking for permission to go. Justice nodded once, and the man bolted out of the street.

The spirit then grabbed the first man, the one who had only just stopped coughing, by the back of his collar and half-dragged half-carried him over to the woman, throwing him at her feet. He, too, clearly got the message, and apologized profusely, before looking to Justice for permission to leave and sprinting away when it was granted. One by one, he did this with each of the men, all of whom made their apologies and was then allowed to leave. Once the area was empty save himself and the woman, Justice made his way over to her.

To her credit, she didn’t shy away from him, just continuing to stare in shock.

“The wrong done to you has now been righted. Those men shall not bother you again.” Justice said, before slipping back, and letting Anders take over once more.

The mage's head fell as the glow dissipated, and when his gaze found hers again, she was looking into soft, amber eyes instead of bright, glowing ones. Anders gave her a friendly smile, trying to keep her from being frightened of them.

“I’m sorry if I,” he had to stop himself from saying ‘we’, for her sake, “scared you. Those men deserved to be taught a lesson.”

She watched him for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in puzzlement, before finally speaking. “Thank you so much, I… They were bothering me and I just wanted them to stop but they wouldn’t. I thought they were going to attack me before you showed up.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe now.” He said, still trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

“What did you _do_?” She asked, before lowering her voice to a whisper. “You’re a mage, aren’t you?”

“I, well – yes. I am.” Anders answered, deciding against explaining the part where _he_ actually hadn’t done anything, and that all of this good work had been done by the spirit living inside him.

She pondered that for a moment, squinting slightly at him, before something that appeared to be recognition dawned on her face. “Oh! You’re the healer, aren’t you?”

“You’ve heard of me?” He asked, nervously, beginning to wonder just how much fame he’d attracted.

“Yes! I’m a baker, you see, and I give what I can to Lirene to help the refugees, so I’ve heard of you, yes. Your accent is Ferelden, and that’s what made me wonder.” She explained.

Anders let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Ah, that makes sense. Did you need any help getting home?”

The woman bit her lip, likely wanting his help, but not wanting to impose.

“Really, it’s no trouble.” He added, before she could answer.

“Well, if you really don’t mind, messere, I would feel safer.” She said, still looking nervous.

“I don’t mind at all.” Anders answered, smiling warmly.

She then gestured the direction she was going to go, and he walked beside her, talking as they went. It turned out her name was Kaela, and she had come from Ferelden as a child with her family many years ago, before the Blight. She’d been fortunate to arrive without strife, and felt strongly for the refugees who’d been forced out of their homes with nothing, and who were then shunned in the only place they could go. So every night, she took the extra goods she had to Lirene, trying to help her countrymen as best she could.

When they arrived safely at her home, he bid her goodnight before heading back to his clinic. Evening had now turned to night, and there was still much to do when he returned. He still felt a little guilty for taking all the credit of rescuing her, when it was Justice who had done all the work. A thought then came to his mind, unbidden.

 _Just work is its own reward. Doing what is right should require no recognition._ Anders smiled slightly, realizing that was Justice’s thought, not his, an answer to his guilt. The spirit was right though; Anders worked to free mages everywhere despite knowing he would likely receive no thanks for it. He didn’t need gratitude; the results where enough.

When Anders finally made it back to his clinic, the trip to Kaela’s home sidetracking him a fair bit, he was lucky to not have any patients waiting for him. Since it was a quiet night, it seemed, he tidied up, reorganized his supplies that were in disarray from the morning, and worked on his manifesto for a time before heading to bed, relishing in being able to get some decent sleep for once.

The next day at the clinic was spent almost entirely on healing the victims of an accident at the docks, and Anders was grateful when it finally ended. As his last patient left, Anders went to close the door to his clinic only to find a covered basket in the doorway. Confused, he picked it up and uncovered the contents to find a few loaves of bread and what appeared to be a small, fruit pie inside. Anders smiled to himself, knowing exactly who the gift was from. He’d save the bread for his patients and those in Darktown who needed it more than he did, but he didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t at least have the pie to himself. Placing the basket full of bread on his desk, he sat down and allowed himself to indulge in sweet pastry containing fresh blueberries, and coaxing Justice to come forth enough to also enjoy the literal fruits of their labour. Doing the right thing may have been its own reward, but they both had to agree that actual rewards could be just as sweet.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Justice is Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345403) by [Kess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kess/pseuds/Kess)




End file.
